


the midnight hour

by greyskiesblack



Series: promptioweek2017 [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, M/M, Radio, Sirens, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 08:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11309688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyskiesblack/pseuds/greyskiesblack
Summary: The Midnight Hour plays Insomnia'sgloomiestmusic. Until Prompto comes along and shakes everything up.Written for Day 2 of Promptio week.





	the midnight hour

**Author's Note:**

> i actually meant for this to be a) about 2-3,000 words and b) completely different.  
> i don't know why this always happens to me. WHOOPS ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> the prompt is "mythical creatures au."

Prompto has been staring at the page in front of him for at  _least_ ten minutes. Enough time for the radio to switch hosts. He’s about to turn it off when the eerie jingle ends and the new host starts to speak.

His voice is crackling electricity, shooting straight down Prompto’s spine. He shivers and his hand hangs in the air, halfway to the dial.

“Welcome to the Midnight Hour.” The voice sparks along Prompto’s hand. “Tonight we’re going to start off with Raging Behemoth’s new track, Leviathan’s Curse.”

The voice fades out and pounding, _gloomy_ music takes over.

Prompto shakes his head. He’s just tired. He's been sitting at his desk all night trying to study for his exams. _Too_ long. He slaps his cheeks and stares down at his book.

The words blur on the page and Prompto sighs. This is pointless. He should go to bed and study in the morning. He yawns and stretches his arms over his head.

He leaves the radio on for background noise while he bookmarks the page and closes all his books. Maybe he can ask Noctis for his notes. Well. Ignis’ notes, probably.

Except Ignis wouldn’t give Prompto his notes. He’d scowl and talk about personal responsibility. Prompto groans and puts his head in his hands. It’s not _entirely_ his fault he didn’t study. It’s the new Oracle Quest’s fault. Not his.

Prompto drags himself up and yawns hard enough to make his jaw hurt. Yeah. Bed is a great idea.

His fingers are touching the radio’s power button when the song ends.

“That was Leviathan’s Curse, by Raging Behemoth.” Prompto’s fingers twitch as though he’s zapped himself with static electricity. “Their new album will be in stores on the 13th. Speaking of the 13th, did you know that Friday 13ths used to be considered good luck?”

Prompto sits back down with a thud.

“It’s completely true. But I know none of you are here for a history lesson. Coming up next, Diamond Dino’s Deep Blue Sea.”

The voice fades out and another gloomy song starts playing.

Prompto stands up and sends his chair toppling over. That was _weird_. He shakes his head and crosses to the bathroom. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that sixth coffee.

 

By the time he’s done getting ready for bed, a different song is playing. Prompto breathes out a sigh as he flops into bed. He double checks his alarms and groans. He should’ve gone to bed an _hour_ ago.

The song ends and Prompto rolls over onto his back. The glow-in-the-dark stars glow green down at him.

“A special thanks to listener 3621 for requesting the last song, Under the Tide’s Black Moon. Don’t forget you can request your own song on our website…”

Prompto yawns and nuzzles into his pillow. The voice is starting to blur. He’s too tired to pay attention, and too tired to switch the radio off. He wriggles further under the covers and yawns again. Tomorrow is going to _suck_.

 

Prompto’s alarms tear him from a dream that fades as he blinks and rubs at his eyes. There’s some _obnoxious_ song playing on the radio. Prompto groans and gets out of bed to turn it off.

“No more late nights,” he mumbles to himself as he turns off his alarms and wipes at his mouth. “Or late night coffee.”

 

The day passes in a tired haze. Prompto’s _pretty_ sure he passed his exam. Probably.

He almost crashes his bike on his way to his part-time job. A car honks at him and Prompto flinches as he pedals away. Too close. At least he’s on a short shift today.

 

A short shift that seems to stretch _endlessly_. The afternoon sun paints the walls of the store gold as Prompto tries not to fall asleep. He’s already had two cups of coffee since he got here, and neither have done a _thing_.

He texts Noctis to break the monotony. Not that Noctis responds. He’s probably busy training with Iris. Prompto sighs and puts his head on the counter. Maybe he could take a nap. A tiny nap. Standing up. At work.

He goes into the bathroom and washes his face with cold water. It doesn’t make him feel any more _awake_ , but it’s better than nothing. Probably.

When he comes back out there’s a customer browsing the shelves. Prompto flushes and rushes back to his spot by the register. At least they don’t seem to be in a hurry.

The guy puts down a bunch of energy drinks without even _looking_ at Prompto.

Prompto doesn’t even bother to say hello. The guy has headphones _blasting_ music loud enough for him to hear. He scans the cans and bags them quickly.

The guy pays by card and mumbles out a ‘thank you’ before leaving. Prompto resists the urge to make a face at the customer’s retreating back. He’s already gotten in trouble for doing that. Twice.

 

By the time Prompto gets home, it’s already dark. He staggers into his tiny apartment and kicks the door shut behind him. A _nap_. He’d delete his saved games for a nap.

Not that it would _really_ be a nap at this point. More like a “sleep for twelve hours” mini-coma. Which still seems awfully tempting.

He considers the pile of books on his desk. The homework he ought to be doing.

Prompto groans and flops face-first onto his bed. Sleep. _Definitely_ sleep. He can regret his terrible choice when he’s awake.

 

Prompto jerks awake. He blinks at his dark room, still half-asleep.

A crash of thunder echoes loud enough to make his window rattle. Prompto shivers and climbs out of bed. Storms are the _worst_. He feels his way to the desk and turns the radio on.

“-and I hope you’re not listening to this while driving home. The Insomnian weather service is reporting gusting winds and-”

Prompto flinches as his room lights up. The thunder follows a few seconds later, loud enough to make Prompto’s head hurt. It must have come in from over the ocean.

Prompto crosses to the wall and flicks his light switch. Nothing. Well that’s just _great_. He trips his way back into bed and burrows under the covers. Maybe the rain will lull him to sleep.

He scoffs as he rolls over. Or he’ll stay awake until the storm stops and the power comes back on like _last_ time. He reaches a hand for the radio and turns the volume up slightly.

“-hopefully be over within the hour. So if the storm is keeping you awake, why don’t you relax with me, here on the Midnight Hour? Coming up next, Astral Light’s Power of You.”

Prompto doesn’t pay much attention to the music. It’s all gloomy stuff, slow and depressing. But the guy’s voice is _amazing_.

Prompto wriggles around in bed and feels for his phone. Would the host play something more upbeat if Prompto requested it? He squints at the bright light of his screen. Well, there’s no harm in trying.

The website is as dark as Prompto expects. It’s all black with a picture of a flickering candle. He has to press his nose against the screen to find the ‘Request,’ page. The website isn’t even _optimised_ for phones. Prompto almost wants to recode it himself.

The cursor blinks at him, waiting for his input. Prompto hums to himself as he considers. The happiest song he can think of…

He grins as he presses the submit button. Even if the host doesn’t play it, it might make him smile.

Well. Prompto _hopes_ it makes him smile. What if he gets really annoyed and blocks Prompto’s IP address and-

Prompto chews at his bottom lip. No, someone with a website like that probably wouldn’t do that. They _couldn’t_.

The song fades out and Prompto peeks his head out of his blankets to listen.

“Well, I know I’ve promised to play every request, but it might take me a while to track _this_ one down. In the meantime, listener 1987, maybe you’ll enjoy this. An oldie but a goodie, Under the Waves by In the Dark.”

Prompto grins as the song starts to play. He _tries_ to pay attention to the lyrics, but it’s hard to make out the words. The melody’s nice, though. He taps a finger against his thigh, trying to distract himself from the rain. It's getting louder against his window.

Another flash of lightning brightens Prompto’s room. He squeezes his eyes shut as the thunder crashes around him.

“Get an apartment on the fifth floor,” Prompto mutters to himself. “You can look out at the city.” He groans and hugs his pillow tighter to his chest. “I’m never listening to Noct _again_.”

The song eventually ends and Prompto inches closer to the desk to listen.

“I had to go hunt this one down, so I hope you’ll enjoy it, listener 1987. There’s nothing quite like a rainbow after a storm, so I hope everyone else will forgive a brief moment of sunlight. It’s Endless Sunshine’s Perfect Smile.”

Prompto grins as the song starts to play. It had been overplayed  _everywhere_ all summer the year he and Noctis started high school. They’d heard it so often at the arcade that Noctis begged the owner to play something else - anything else.

He hums along to the song. He ought to bring it out next time they all go to karaoke. Noctis’ face would be _priceless_.

There’s another flash of lightning. Prompto flinches and waits for the thunder. It takes a few seconds - the storm is _finally_ moving away. Too bad the rain hasn’t eased up yet. Everything’s going to be _soaked_ tomorrow.

“And with that, we return to our normal programming. The storm is finally easing up, a little too early for any of us to spot a rainbow. But we’ve got the next best thing. Spiracorn’s How Long is Forever.”

Prompto tilts his head slightly. The name almost rings a bell… He scrambles for his phone and winces at the brightness. He grins at the search result and opens the Midnight Hour’s website again. The joke is too good to resist.

Prompto stretches out in his bed as he waits for the song to end. Did the host have enough time to find Prompto’s song? Or maybe he won’t play it. Maybe Prompto’s being ridiculous for requesting it.

“That was Spiracorn’s How Long is Forever. It seems like listener 1987 is back and requesting another song. Normally I don’t play favourites, but even I can appreciate a good joke. This one’s for you, listener 1987. Forever Isn’t Long Enough, by Coctura.”

Prompto grins. He turns on his phone screen again and types a message into the request box. He probably _shouldn’t_ , but he presses submit before he can change his mind.

“Thanks for playing my songs. Your gloomy stuff isn’t my style, but I like your voice. Hope you have a nice night.”

Prompto holds his breath for a moment when the song fades out. Surely the guy won’t _read_ Prompto’s message?

“Remember, listeners. A compliment a day keeps the gloominess at bay. So do your best to avoid them. And speaking of avoid, I’ve heard the lead singer from this band has been avoiding his manager. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to a breakup. It’s Iron Giant’s Burning Bright.”

Prompto grins and rolls over. The rain is easing up, and the thunder barely beats the noise from the radio. Maybe he can get some more sleep. He snuggles under the covers and closes his eyes.

 

Prompto wakes up choking for air. He’d been _drowning_. He blinks at his room for a second. He can still _feel_ the icy water on his skin. The longer he’s awake, though, the more the dream fades. Just a bad dream. Probably from the storm. Prompto stretches and glances at his phone. _Shit_.

 

Prompto doesn’t _intentionally_ start staying awake later or anything. It’s just kind of nice to take a nap after work. And to wake up and make dinner at midnight. He even gets more studying done than usual, in between requesting ridiculous songs.

He hasn’t found a single song the Midnight Hour’s host won’t play. No matter how pop or upbeat, if Prompto requests it, it ends up on the air. He’s _pretty_ sure the other listeners must want to smack him. Or drown him. Half the time he wakes up in the morning choking on air and feeling water in his lungs. It’s not like he ever went to the beach in the _first_ place, so Prompto’s not really worried. It’s just _weird_.

He even looks it up in one of Ignis’ books. But all the page says about drowning in dreams is some nonsense about being overwhelmed by emotions. Which Prompto _definitely_ isn’t.

He just likes the way the host’s voice sounds. That’s all. He can’t even put his finger on _why_. Something about it makes Prompto feel relaxed. Which is why it’s great for studying to. That’s all.

 

Prompto’s half-asleep at work when the door slides open. “Welcome,” he mumbles, blinking at the customer. Spring seems too warm for all that black.

The guy ignores him and heads straight for the ice cream. Prompto rolls his eyes and goes back to flipping half-heartedly through the magazine on the counter. Maybe if he requests more hours he could save up enough for one of those _super_ fancy cameras…

“Hey.”

The voice makes Prompto jump. The magazine ends up on the floor, and Prompto ducks down to pick it up. His heart is slamming against his ribs. “S-Sorry,” Prompto stammers as he slowly gets to his feet.

The guy shrugs. “S’cool.”

Prompto bites his lip and starts scanning. The guy has bought practically _all_ of the rocky road ice cream. Prompto peeks up from underneath his bangs, trying to get a better look at the man.

Not that he can make out much. Tall. Like, _super_ tall. And built like a tank. But he’s got his hood tugged down around his face, and no matter how much Prompto _wills_ the guy to lift his head, he doesn’t.

“You must really like rocky road.” Prompto offers weakly as he stacks the ice cream into two bags.

“Sure.” The guy lifts his head slightly. Prompto can make out a flash of white teeth. “What’s not to like?”

Prompto’s skin breaks out in goose bumps. “Sorry.” Prompto looks down and shakes his head. “Um. You… You don’t run a radio show, do you?” He glances back up. His cheeks are painfully warm.

“A radio show?” The guy echoes, leaning over the counter. “Why?”

“Um.” Prompto looks down. “Your voice just… reminded me of this one I listen to.” He shrugs and fiddles with a bracelet. “Sorry.”

The guy leans over the counter and grabs Prompto’s wrist. “1987?” His voice sounds like there’s something stuck in his throat. His fingers are digging into Prompto’s wrist hard enough to bruise.

“Y-Yeah.” Prompto nods and tries to free his hand. “Um-”

The man lets him go as though Prompto’s skin burned him. “Sorry.” He shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets and leans back. “I don’t get out much.”

“It’s okay.” Prompto rubs at his wrist with his fingers. He leans over the counter. “Is it _really_ you?”

The guy lifts his head and smiles. “Yeah. Hey. I don’t want to get you in trouble at work.” He hunches his shoulders slightly. “When do you finish?”

“Um.” Prompto chews at his bottom lip. “Eight.”

“Cool.” The guy ducks his head. “Is it… Do you want to…” He shrugs.

“Yes.” Prompto says when the guy trails off. “Do you wanna meet me here?”

“Sure.” The guy lifts his head and flashes a smile. “I’ll um. See you then.”

Prompto nods. His chest feels all fluttery and tight. “Oh!” He smacks his forehead. “Your ice cream.”

“Oh. Right.” The guy lets out a nervous chuckle. “Here’s my card.”

Prompto doesn’t _mean_ to snoop. He really doesn’t. But he can’t help reading the name as he swipes the card. Gladiolus Anthemusa. “Okay.” Prompto hands him - Gladiolus? - his bags. “Um. See you.”

“Yeah.” Gladiolus waves before hurrying out of the store.

Prompto looks at the clock and sighs. It’s not even _five_.

 

The hours stretch out endlessly. No matter how many torturous minutes pass by, the clock keeps _lying_. Prompto even gives up and tries to _study_. Which is exactly when his phone rings.

“Hey.” Prompto answers automatically.

“Hey Prom.” Noctis’ voice sounds tinny, like he’s got Prompto on speaker. “You’re still at work, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Prompto frowns and glances at the clock. It’s five after seven. He’s going to _die_.

“Iggy said it’s gonna rain. You want a lift?”

“Nah. I’m working for another hour.” Prompto hunches his shoulders slightly. “But thanks.”

“Man, you have to stop changing your hours.” Noctis huffs. “Every time I get them memorised you go and switch them up.”

Prompto chuckles nervously. “W-Well, routine gets boring, right?”

“I guess.” Noctis sighs. “Okay. Don’t drown on your way home.”

“I’ll do my best.” Prompto hangs up the phone and then stares down at it for a second.

Of all the phrases… Prompto shakes his head and puts his phone away. He’s just tired. And giddy. He’s going to meet the voice of the Midnight Hour. The voice that’s been distracting him for _weeks_. Okay, like two and a half months. Not that Prompto’s counted.

He forces down an excited giggle. Maybe he can ask why he - Gladiolus - always plays such melancholy songs. Or why he always plays Prompto’s. A dozen, _hundred_ , questions cascade through Prompto’s mind. He doesn’t even notice the clock ticking down to eight.

 

It’s _pouring_ when Prompto steps outside. He frowns and squints out towards the parking lot. It’s more like a _pond_. Or a lake.

He darts back inside. The girl who replaced him on the counter raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment when Prompto buys a cheap umbrella.

“Thanks.” Prompto smiles at her before heading back outside. Gladiolus _said_ he’d be here… But what if he changed his mind because of the rain?

Prompto edges along the carpark, making sure to stay under cover. No one would be out in weather like this if they didn’t _have_ to be.

He fiddles with his umbrella, opening and closing the velcro fastener. Maybe he should go home. Or see if Ignis would give him a ride-

“Hey.” A voice calls out from behind him.

Prompto jumps and turns around. His hands tighten around the umbrella.

The dark figure inches closer. It _has_ to be Gladiolus. Except Prompto can’t tell when the guy is wearing his hood up like that.

“Um.” Prompto squeaks.

“It’s me, 1987.” The echoing rain distorts Gladiolus’ voice. “Come on.” He holds out a hand. “Let’s get somewhere dry.”

Prompto swallows and takes a nervous step forward. “Um.” He holds up his hand - the one with the umbrella.

Gladiolus takes the umbrella and opens it above them both. “You don’t mind sharing, right?”

Prompto shrugs. “It’s fine.” He shoves his hands into his pockets so he can pretend they're not shaking.

“There’s a diner over there, right?” Gladiolus points. Not that Prompto can see anything beyond the rain. “I’ll buy you dinner.”

Prompto nods and follows beside Gladiolus as he steps into the carpark. Water splashes up his legs. _Gross_.

 

The diner is blissfully warm. And _dry_. Prompto feels guilty for dripping on the carpet while they wait to be seated. Gladiolus - it feels weird thinking of him like that when he hasn’t even told Prompto his name - still hasn’t lowered his hood. Maybe he’s _really_ shy.

Or a serial killer. It’s always a serial killer in the movies. Prompto swallows and edges towards the door.

“Sorry for the wait.” The waiter gives them a polite smile. “A table for two? This way.”

He leads them along the booths to the one in the back, right by the window.

“Thanks,” Prompto mumbles as he slides into his seat.

The waiter nods and leaves them alone.

“Um.” Prompto fiddles with his napkin.

Gladiolus pushes his hood back. Prompto tries not to stare. He’s _gorgeously_ rugged and handsome. Like he walked out of an advertisement for one of those desert outlaw movies.

Prompto swallows. “H-Hi,” he chokes out.

“Hi.” Gladiolus hunches his shoulders. “Sorry. The light gives me a headache.” He smiles at Prompto.

Prompto’s heart ricochets between his stomach and his throat. “O-Oh. S-Sure.” He could _kick_ himself. “Um. My name’s Prompto.” He sits up a little straighter. “It’s _really_ cool to meet you.”

“Gladiolus,” he says quietly. “It’s… It’s cool to meet you too.” He smiles a little wider. “You’re even brighter in person.”

Prompto bites his bottom lip. “I am?”

Gladiolus nods and waves a hand towards him. “Almost like I pictured you.”

“You pictured me?” Prompto leans across the table. “Really?”

Gladiolus nods. “I kept trying to figure out what kind of person would request such _weird_ songs.”

Prompto grins. “They’re not _weird_. Just because they’re not all doom and gloom-”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with doom and gloom.” Gladiolus’ eyes crinkle when he smiles. Prompto bites at his bottom lip again. “Some people like it.”

“Do you like it?” Prompto leans forward on his elbows.

“Sure.” Gladiolus picks up a menu and puts it down without opening it. “I mean, midnight’s pretty gloomy in the first place, right? Especially if you’re sitting around listening to the radio.” He opens the menu without looking down. “So the music fits.”

“I guess.” Prompto toys with a bracelet. “But if you like songs like that, why’d you play mine?”

Gladiolus looks down. “I’m not sure.” He shrugs and looks back up. “I wanted to see what would happen, I guess.” He puts both hands on the table and smiles. “Didn’t expect this.”

“Me either.” Prompto glances down. He feels like a can of soda that’s been shaken up. “So, um. Have you eaten here before?”

Gladiolus shakes his head. “You?”

“Nah.” Prompto opens the menu and frowns. “It all looks _really_ good.”

“That means you’re hungry.” Gladiolus says softly. “Take your time. I don’t mind.”

 

Talking to Gladiolus is almost _too_ easy. Every time Prompto stops and covers his mouth to stop his rambles, Gladiolus leans forward and asks another question.

By the time they’ve eaten dinner _and_ dessert, Prompto feels like he’s known Gladiolus for _ages_. And it’s not like he’s the only one rambling, either. Gladiolus seems as though he could talk about music until the sun comes up. Or even longer.

 

The rain’s stopped by the time they get outside. Prompto leaves his umbrella against the side of the diner. Someone else might need it.

They walk for a few minutes in silence. Prompto feels shy now that Gladiolus is looming beside him. He’s just so _tall_. And kind of imposing.

“Um.” Gladiolus stops and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Is it weird if I ask you back to my place?”

“Y-Your place?” Prompto chokes out. “Um-”

“It’s where I do the show.” Gladiolus says quickly. “You could come and watch. If you wanted.” He gives Prompto a smile that’s almost shy.

Prompto swallows. “That’d be really cool.”

Gladiolus’ smile gets bigger. “Okay. We have to take the train, then.” He starts walking in a different direction.

Prompto hurries to keep up. This is even _better_ than a dream come true.

 

Gladiolus lives on a _boat_. An actual, like, in the _ocean_ boat. Prompto stares at it. He can’t even _swim_.

“Prompto?” Gladiolus has one foot on the dock and the other on the side of the boat. He’s holding a hand out towards Prompto.

“A _boat_.” Prompto shakes his head. “But-”

“Don’t worry.” Gladiolus wiggles his fingers. “It’s perfectly safe.”

Prompto swallows and slides his hand into Gladiolus’. It’s _cold_. “Okay.”

 

It’s nicer inside the cabin, even if it _is_ kind of small. And cramped. Prompto has to sit on the bed with his knees up under his chin just to stay out of Gladiolus’ way.

Not that he _really_ minds. Gladiolus stripped off his hoodie and hung it outside, and Prompto can’t stop _staring_ at the tattoo running along Gladiolus’ arms.

“What is it?” Prompto asks. “The tattoo?”

“It’s a bird.” Gladiolus looks down and rubs at an arm. “Do you wanna see?”

“Is that okay?” Prompto inches forward slightly. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.” Gladiolus peels off his t-shirt.

Prompto bites his lip. He was right that Gladiolus is built like a tank. The black lines of his tattoo swirl along his back, ripple over his muscles.

Gladiolus turns and smiles. “See? It’s a raven.”

“It’s _gorgeous_ ,” Prompto breathes before he can stop himself. His fingers reach forward automatically to the raven’s head on Gladiolus’ chest. “Oh-Um.” He swallows and drops his hand. “I didn’t-”

“It’s okay.” Gladiolus leans closer. “I don’t mind.”

Prompto’s fingers tremble as he traces the raven’s outline. Gladiolus’ skin is icy cold, but the tattoo feels warm. Maybe it’s just Prompto imagining things. “Did it hurt?”

“More than you can imagine.” Gladiolus smiles and pulls his shirt back on. “You can stretch out, you know. I won’t mind.”

It feels awkward to lie down on someone else’s bed, but Prompto _is_ kind of sleepy. Besides, there’s still another hour or two until the Midnight Hour starts. He snuggles against Gladiolus’ pillow and yawns. It smells like the ocean. Well. He’s _on_ the ocean. Prompto closes his eyes and tries not to think about it.

 

He wakes up to a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Prompto,” Gladiolus says quietly. “The sun’s almost up.”

Prompto stretches. His feet bang into something. His hands collide with something else. He jerks awake and opens his eyes.

Gladiolus is smiling down at him.

“I missed the show?” Prompto blinks. “I meant to take a nap…”

“It’s okay.” Gladiolus pulls a CD case out from behind his back. “I recorded it for you.”

“You did?” Prompto carefully sits up and takes the CD. He’s not even sure he _owns_ a CD player. This guy is _totally_ vintage. “That was really nice of you.”

“Yeah.” Gladiolus looks down at his feet and sighs softly. “Anyway. You should come up and watch the sunrise.” He smiles at Prompto again and then leaves the cabin.

Prompto rubs at his eyes for a second before slowly getting to his feet and following.

The sunrise is _dazzling_. The ocean is reflecting the light like a kaleidoscope. Prompto wishes he had a camera. Something better than his phone. His phone that’s _out of battery_. Prompto makes a face at it and shoves it into his pocket along with the CD case.

“It’s beautiful.” Prompto steps up beside Gladiolus. “Thank you.”

Gladiolus turns to him and smiles. The light makes his dark hair shine with a golden light. “It’s my pleasure.” He touches a finger to Prompto’s cheek and then drops his hand. “Sorry.”

“It’s… okay.” Prompto swallows. He doesn’t even have any mints. “I don’t mind.”

Gladiolus leans closer. “Are you sure?”

Prompto nods and tilts his head up. He closes his eyes against the glare of the sun.

Something cold brushes feather-light against his lips. Prompto lifts his feet and kisses Gladiolus back. He tastes like salt. Like the ocean.

Gladiolus pulls away. Prompto licks his lips. _Definitely_ salt. He opens his eyes slowly.

The boat is empty. Prompto blinks and turns around, rubbing at his eyes. Completely empty.

“Gladiolus?” He calls out softly. Is he still asleep? Is this some _weird_ dream? He turns in a slow circle. Nothing. He turns back to the railing and peers out over the ocean. There’s something splashing in the distance. Probably some horrifyingly large fish. “Gladiolus?” Prompto can’t keep the panic out of his voice. What if he fell in - no. Prompto didn’t hear a splash.

Prompto grips the railing hard enough to hurt. Gladiolus had been _right_ there. And now… How…? Prompto rubs at his eyes again. “This isn’t a funny trick!” He calls out. His voice cracks.

He leans down and peeks into the cabin. There’s no _way_ Gladiolus could be hiding somewhere. But there’s a golden seashell on the bed that hadn’t been there a minute ago. Had it? Prompto stares at it for a moment before reaching out a careful finger and touching it. Smooth.

 

He waits for ten minutes before leaving the boat and wobbling along the deck. Gladiolus’ discarded hoodie is _way_ too big for him, but it’s got a pocket big enough for the shell. Prompto hunches his shoulders against the wind and makes his way to the subway station. He’s _definitely_ awake. So what the _heck_ happened?

 

There’s a CD player in a box under his bed. Prompto stares at it for a minute before lifting it out and plugging it into the wall. He spent the entire walk home _shivering_ , like his bones were frozen inside him. It’s not like he could have hallucinated everything. The waiter had seen Gladiolus. And people on the subway. It’s impossible for him to have been a figment of Prompto’s imagination.

He presses play with a trembling hand.

“I lied about doing a show tonight.” Gladiolus’ warm voice fills the room. “You’re the only listener I want to talk to.” Prompto can hear Gladiolus take a long, deep breath. “I kind of lied to you. I’m not… Well. You’ll never see me again after you wake up. Probably.”

Prompto’s fingers curl around the seashell in his hoodie pocket. A sharp edge scrapes across his finger. “Why _not_?” He whispers to himself as Gladiolus takes another deep breath.

“You probably won’t believe me, but… I’m a siren. I’ve been playing all those doom and gloom songs for years, hoping to find someone who’d break the curse. Leviathan’s curse.” Gladiolus pauses and lets out a dry chuckle. “And then you came along and requested all these bright, happy songs.” Gladiolus pauses for a moment. “It… It almost made me want to stay human.” He exhales slowly. “But not enough. I’m sorry, Prompto. I left you… It’s a shell. Well. It’s obviously a shell. But if you… If you want to talk to me. You can.”

Gladiolus lets out a long, shaky breath. Prompto’s fingers curl around the seashell. He can feel the sharp edges slice through his skin.

“And if you don’t, that’s okay. I just… I’ve got so much I want to say.” Gladiolus chuckles softly. “And a lot I don’t think I should. But… Thank you. Really. And I’m sorry.”

There’s a long pause and then a song starts playing. It’s almost too quiet to hear properly. Prompto fiddles with the volume dial, but it doesn’t make much difference.

The chorus starts and Prompto sucks in a breath. He can recognise it, now. Endless Sunshine’s Perfect Smile. Prompto bites his bottom lip and yanks the seashell out of his pocket.

He’s not sure exactly _how_ it works, but he can take a guess. “Gladiolus?” He whispers into the open end. He holds it up to his ear. His fingers are slick with blood.

Prompto can hear the crashing of the ocean. It’s a trick. Ignis told Prompto and Noctis about it years ago. Just a trick. “Gladiolus?” He repeats more loudly.

“Prompto?” The voice sends shivers down Prompto’s spine. “I didn’t think you’d call.”

“Well.” Prompto clears his throat and tries to smile. “You thought wrong.”

**Author's Note:**

> do you know HOW HARD IT WAS to think of all those silly bands and songs?!
> 
> also i made an _excellent_ ice cream joke and i hope someone understands.


End file.
